


Weak Spots

by keelywolfe



Series: by any other name [111]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Jeff (Andy), M/M, Platonic Relationships, Sans/Underfell Sans (Undertale), Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Sans (Undertale), Undertale Monsters on the Surface, kustard - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28864086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Red knew he should've just kept walking.
Series: by any other name [111]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1039829
Comments: 19
Kudos: 79





	Weak Spots

* * *

Red didn’t do walks. Why the fuck would he, for his health? Wasn’t a workout plan out there that was gonna build him any muscle and when your main mode of transportation was taking a step through the void, you tended to keep the travel expenses to a minimum. 

So no, he didn’t do walks, or strolls, or jogs, did he look like his fucking brother? Maybe a little around the eye sockets, but where Edge was always on the move, Red’s internal gearshift was set on park. He liked to have a clear idea of where he was coming from and where he was going to, and not much in between. 

All of that was a longass way of saying that wandering down the street with a cigar in one hand and an itchy tailbone in the other was not his normal state of being. Just the walking part, the smokes and the ass scratch were a daily occurrence. 

Sometimes, though, the urge struck to get out, to circle the block and have a looksee around that wasn’t through a camera lens. His leg bones got jittery, was all, and tended to take him along for the ride. 

If you asked Sans, they weren’t walks at all, it was only him taking a mo’ to survey his domain. Said if Red coulda taken a piss, he’d be whizzing on any tree or fire hydrant he passed. But no one fucking asked Sans, so who gave a shit what that fucker thought about it. 

He’d be paying for that remark in spades when Red got back. Spades, diamonds, clubs, he’d owe in all the suits.

~~(maybe even hearts)~~

Red shuffled easily along, the soles of his boots scraping the concrete. Up to the border where Old New Home and New New Home met and transformed from mostly abandoned carbon copy houses to pretty little family homes. Didn’t usually go this far out, but it was better’n trudging through the roughly plowed streets of his neighborhood. The sidewalks here were newer and heated, cleared from any snowy sludge, and Red was plenty done with all forms snow; after years in Snowdin, he’d had enough of it for this lifetime and halfway into the next.

The sidewalk made a lazy loop through the little park system that was slowly getting built up. Ebott had a few parks, sure, but not all Monsters wanted to drive out or haul their kiddos on the bus for a little swing set time. No one was on the playground right now, the swings hanging empty, the jungle gym iced over. Maybe on a warmer day, the kiddos would be out but today the chill was keeping them behind closed doors, wasn’t another soul in sight and—

Wait.

In one corner of the park, deep in the snowdrifts and sitting at the wide base of sheltering tree was someone in a bright orange jacket. For a split second, he thought it was Stretch sitting huddled over there; not too many other people around here chose to dress like they were in search of a fucking crosswalk to guard.

A blink and a closer look proved it was a trick of sight, not that Red was that far off. Turned out to be Andy, the honey bun’s shorter platonic soulmate was the one parked alone in the snow. Kid was sitting with his head resting on his updrawn knees, his arms wrapped around ‘em and Red’d seen enough people in that position to recognize when someone was havin’ a cry. ‘course, usually it was his fault…

Anyway.

What he should do is just keep on walking. Kid hadn’t seen him and whatever his troubles were, there were plenty of other shoulders out there he could spill ‘em on. Hell, Blue might kick his own brother out of the way to rip his damn shirt off so Jeff could use it as a Kleenex and apologize for not washin’ it first.

Red had enough on his plate, thanks, and he didn’t need anyone feeding him whatever was the daily special for angst. 

Keep on walking, yep, that was what he should do. Maybe even take a shortcut, head on back home where Sans was probably still curled up on the sofa in the same grungy shorts he’d worn the day before, socks sagging down to puddle at his ankles and a smear of ketchup on the front of his t-shirt. No one was ever gonna paint him like one of their French girls and that was fine by Red. Let his bro keep the pretty one, Red had a claim on the asshole, even had his name on ‘im these days and Sans wore it bold as the brass it was engraved on.

Shoulda, coulda…didn’t. Red heaved out a sigh and stopped. His bro was the one who kept collecting liabilities but fuck if Red hadn’t picked up a coupla weak spots of his own along the way and Handy Andy was one of ‘em. 

If Grillby could only see him now, he’d laugh his flaming fucking head off. 

So Red took a detour, wandered over in Andy’s direction. The snow was deeper out here, spilling cold into the tops of his boots and why the fuck couldn’t people have a crisis where it was warm? Andy didn’t look up and Red leaned against the tree trunk, grimacing at the chill leaking through his jacket as he struck a match against the rough bark. 

That got him a startled gasp and Jeff jerked, looking up at him with a tearstained face and red-rimmed eyes.

Red worked on lighting a fresh cigar, wondered idly if he's gonna have to arrange some kind of 'accident'. Better not be Antwan making the kid cry, 'cause if he had to murder his bro's best friend, it'd be a lot of damn work; he’d need to make that case airtight, Edge always gotta be so suspicious. Trained baby bro too well in that. 

But patience was asking too fucking much and his feet were cold, so Red asked gruffly, "so what's the problem, kid?"

“Nothing,” Jeff said, sniffling,

“uh huh. just rehearsing for the big play, is that it?”

He was quiet for a long moment and Red didn’t say another word, only smoked his cigar and let the silence crawl up Andy’s spine, prickling like a sin until he finally blurted, “My mom called.”

“that so,” Red said, indifferently. Leaving the door open and as suspected, Jeff blundered right on through it. 

“My dad had a heart attack and he's in the hospital,” Jeff said. A fresh wash of tears fell down his cheeks and he wiped them impatiently away on his sleeve. “She said he’s stable and he doesn’t want to see me, but she wanted to let me know.”

“sounds like a bitch move right there.” He snuck a glance and saw the protest rising on Jeff’s face in a ‘don’t call my mom a bitch' sort of way, watched as it faded.

“Maybe it was,” Jeff said, low. He dropped his chin back on his knees, his gaze resting on wide field of untouched snow in front of him. “You’d think I’d be over it. It’s been years since he kicked me out. I want to hate him, you know? Sometimes I even do, but…it's still my dad. It still hurts, every stupid time.”

“uh huh.” Yeah, Red got that. Sometimes all the what ifs and could bes and wishes for things to be different got clotted up with reality. It happened. "so why ain't you with the honey bun or sacked up with your booty call? why are you sittin' here alone like a dumbass?"

Jeff didn't answer for a long minute, his eyes on the ground, until he finally muttered, "Because they'd try to make me feel better."

Ah.

Red only nodded, shifting to stand upright with a grunt. "gotcha. welp, wallow away, kid." He stuck his cigar between his teeth, shoved his hands in his pockets, and started off, tromping back through the snow. A low, muted sob rose behind him and Red paused long to call back, "i'll give ya a coupla hours to get it out of your system, kid. cry, scream, play country music, don't give a shit, but after that, you better be headed someplace more cheerful, you get me?"

"Okay," Jeff sniffled, all pained gratitude and fresh tears. "Thanks, Red."

"don't. i wasn't even here." Red walked out back out to the sidewalk and left the kid to it, headed in the direction of home, and if he pulled up the camera hidden on one corner of the jungle gym on his phone, eh, Jeff should know better by now than to ever think Red wasn't watching.

-finis-


End file.
